Page 58 of Assistant to the Billionaire CEO

The supply closet’s door looked different to the others that lined the hallway. It was matte and cherry-red, and it had a silver plaque on it that simply read “Supplies.” It was situated about ten feet away from Mrs. Hoffman’s office door, which appeared exhaustingly ordinary in comparison.

Out of habit, I knocked timidly, but there was no reply. After opening it, I stepped inside and flipped a light switch on the wall to my right. No windows. The darkness that had lain over the expansive room like a thick blanket blipped out of existence, and the bright white lights that dotted the ceiling started humming.

The room was filled with four rows of gray steel shelves. I could see the tops of rulers and the handles of scissors sticking out of boxes stacked on the shelf to my left, and headed directly toward them. Everything from staplers to highlighters were inside the boxes, but I didn’t see any pens. I started weaving between the rows of shelves, opening random boxes and peering into them. A sense of dread started setting in when I reached the fourth shelf and still hadn’t found any evidence of pens in the supply room. On my knees, I started digging through a few boxes on the floor.

I heard the supply room’s doorknob twist and quickly hid behind one of the large boxes lining the third shelf I’d been going through. Don’t ask me why I was hiding. It was a reflex—likely from reading too many thrillers. I regretted it immediately. There was nothing more suspicious than a person hiding behind some boxes, sweating profusely. If anyone saw me here! I peeked over the large box and watched as the glossy red door slowly opened.

Damn it. Too late to come out from my hiding spot without being seen.

Thump. Thump. Thump.My heartbeat was audible. I clutched my handbag.

I just hoped whoever was approaching wouldn’t be able to see or hear me. Any one of them would totally give me away. Sure, I hadn’t done anything inherently wrong by being in the supply room, but Terry’s words of warning were still ringing in my ears, causing the voice inside of my head to pipe up, “You are so fired!”

“Who’s in here?” A gruff baritone echoed through the shelves, causing some of them to rattle.

Gulp.

I knew it would seem even more suspicious if Ikepthiding after being asked to identify myself. My legs wobbled as I stood upright. Lifting my head, I realized that the person standing in the center of the supply room was none other thanhim. My boss. Of course. Just my luck. Who else would it be? Of all the people, of all the employees working in this huge building, why, oh, why, did I keep running intohim?

“I-I was just looking for some pens,” I admitted. “Winifred sent me. Am I in trouble?”

“Hmm. Doyouthink you’re in trouble?” Ace practically growled.

“I don’t know. Maybe?” My blood rushed to my cheeks, causing my ears to burn. “I thought perhaps I’d been gone too long, and you came here to chastise me.”

“To chastise you?” Ace stared at me intently, watching me, assessing me, while I stared back at him, and into his cool blue eyes that sparkled like icebergs caught in the bright Arctic sun.

“Yeah, well, I can’t find the pens anywhere, so I’ve been here longer than I suppose most people normally are. At this point, I’m starting to think there are no pens in here whatsoever.” The tingling feeling was returning. It had started spreading from my navel to between my thighs and tothere.

Without saying a word, he brushed past me. The smell of his cologne wafted over me. It smelled like the air did after the first rain that ended a dry spell. He nonchalantly strode toward a box right next to me, stuck his hand inside, and withdrew a fistful of pens. “Are these what you were looking for?” he asked, holding them out toward me.

“Oh. Yes.” Hand outstretched, I went to retrieve the elusive stationery. “I can’t believe I didn’t see them there—” My breath caught in my throat when our skin touched.

“No, sorry,” Ace said, closing his fist around the pens and withdrawing it. “I can’t give these to you quite yet. First, there’s the matter of your punishment to discuss.” He stowed the handful of pens in his slacks’ pocket and glared at me.

“Why, for…loitering?”

“You clearly disregarded my wish to report to Mr. Hardy. You were late for your interview. You were late for lunch. Now this. So, tell me—what do you think your punishment should be?”

“My punishment?” I squeaked. “But I told you, I’ve only been up here for so long because I couldn’t find the pens. I’m just alittlelate. It wasn’t on purpose. Normally I’m Miss Punctuality.” I didn’t tell him that I’d known of his request before I’d decided to visit Winifred’s office, and indeed had disregarded his order. “Besides, I can always make up the time.” The tingling feeling turned into an urgent type of burning sensation. Every inch of my skin screamed to be touched.

“Oh, can you?” He took a step closer to me. His icy-blue eyes bore into me. He put one of his arms around my waist and tugged me toward him, nearly lifting me clean off my feet. My handbag slid down my shoulder, landing on the floor with a thud.

“Wait, wha—” I started, not really protestingthatmuch.

He leaned into me, his lips nearly brushing against mine. This was no dream, no imagination. This was really happening. I was pushed against his chest, my breasts delectably flush to his front, and I could feel his heart racing through his thin cotton shirt. The pens in his slacks’ pocket poked into my stomach, or at least that was what I thought it might be. I closed my eyes and prepared to surrender to him, to feel his fiery kiss on my lips. The burning feeling inside my chest—and between my legs—was now an unstoppable magnetic tug. I needed his touch as much as I needed air.

“Turn around,” he ordered, sitting down on one of the boxes. “Lap. Now.”

“Hmm, what?” I asked while I was turning around.

His eyes gestured to his lap. “Bend over.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m not going to repeat myself.”

I bent over his knee, sticking my ass out as my skirt rode up.

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